Back Off : Peace

“I’m not going to let you weasel out of it,” said my date, grabbing my arm and planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek. My cheek, because I quickly turned my mouth away from the incoming.

Since when is kissing mandatory? Since when is kissing NOT consensual? Since when does anyone have a right to touch me against my will?

In Budapest, a film-set driver believed he had that right. In Olympia, a director believed he had that right. And it’s not always men. A dancer I was collaborating with ran her hands down my sides one day before a crowded rehearsal, which was NOT in the choreography. “I’m not coming onto you,” she replied when I protested. 

I wish I had the presence of mind to say, “I don’t know what you think you are doing, but get your paws off me.” I want to be strong or violent, kick them in the shins and yell, “Back off!” like I learned in self-defense class. But I am always shocked into paralysis. These are not strangers, usually. They are colleagues, and I was trained to be amiable. I don’t want to hurt their feelings, so I shut mine down.

Not okay.

Maybe the pack of dogs was practice. Maybe I should carry shiny coins, and throw them to distract the humans while I make my getaway.

Or kick them in the shins. 

Instead, today, I walked over to the date’s boat and told him how I felt.

And he listened. Without attitude or defensiveness. Respectfully. And apologized.

He explained the date-kiss custom in his part of the world. And I listened, without attitude or defensiveness. Respectfully.

It is hard to be human – so many expectations and habits of mind from all areas of the globe.

I want to answer Rodney King’s question with, “We can get along.” 

We can.